


Today's Special-Tea

by Ommnut



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: ? - Freeform, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Smut, F/M, Lots of OC's, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Reader has own agenda, Reader is a bakery owner, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, cause I know that's what yall really want, fic gets darker as chapters go on, kinda mostly in the beginning, levi is a bit of a weirdo, mentions of sexual assault and rape, reader gets caught up in things she wasn't ready for, strongly characterized reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:28:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27419551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ommnut/pseuds/Ommnut
Summary: You’re just a simple gal with simple taste, trying to make the world a little bit happier with your humble bakery. You wake up early in the morning, pluck some fresh ingredients from your small garden, prepare your goods, serve your customers, and in the afternoon you teach some local children from Aunt Jun’s home what music you know.You...might have smuggled these children from the underground, but that’s beside the point. You swear your life is nothing but mundane and peaceful.Although the strange man who had started visiting your shop on the daily is definitely new, always asking for a cup of tea.
Relationships: Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin)/Reader, Levi/Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 34





	Today's Special-Tea

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! This is a big project that's been planned for a bit, I plan on having it follow along with canon lore so please be aware that there will be spoilers. I'll be very clear about when in the manga or anime that the time is placed so anyone who isn't finished can get a bit of a warning. Most of the events in the manga or anime will happen 'off-screen' considering Reader defiantly won't be there but that's not saying that she won't get into her own little adventures. (Also as a side note I thought I was being super clever with the 'Bakery' idea but apparently it's been done before and is popular so rip me I guess lmaooo)
> 
> Lastly, this is not a songfic by any means, but I'm a hoe for music and I'll probably add a song or two to fit the mood, for characterization, or to allude to events for fun. Not required to listen but there if u wanna.
> 
> -Dark Necessities by Red Hot Chili Peppers  
> -Moaning Lisa Smile by Wolf Alice

Fingers stumbled upon each other as you tied your boots in haste. It was opening time and you only had a minute or two before you would have to consider yourself late, the herbs you chose to pick and prepare to dry taking up more than a little of your morning routine. You’ve never missed a week, having a special tea blend you’ve handcrafted was something that added a personal flair to your shop, and aside from no one really ordering it, it was a quirk that you admit had unintentionally become some sort of a ‘schtick’ to your regulars. Making you a bit of a character to them.

It was a weird outcome to you wanting to be creative with your beverages but you’d be lying if the talking they did about it didn’t spread the word of your bakery. It was publicity to a degree and that always drummed up business. And you were nothing, if not a businesswoman.

The click of your front door echoed in the narrow stairwell as you closed it behind you, making your way down the steps and through another door at the bottom. The door to your humble shop.

It was a Wednesday. And Wednesday means that Marianne is waiting at the front door for her precious egg tarts.

You’re careful that the herbs in the pouch you’re carrying don’t scatter, the knocking at your storefront now within hearing distance. It was a little difficult to try and hold back a small grimace, wondering how many minutes past opening it must be.

“I’m coming!” You sing-songed in the direction of the door, placing the herbs on a free shelf to dry when you have a moment to set them up that way. Feet taking you through your kitchen, skipping past the counter, and the sitting area, (You’ll close the stairway door to your apartment when you’re in less of a rush.) and to the entrance. You allowed yourself a moment and a deep breath, preparing for her silvery tongue in the early light of the morning before unlocking all three of your locks and opening the door to reveal her smiling face greeting you. 

You exchange quick hellos, the weather being nice enough for you to quickly kick your door stopper into its proper place under the door. Might as well let the fresh air in as Marianne gives you what for. Your eyes meet hers when you look up. She knows you’re waiting for it.

“Hmm. Only two minutes late this time. Impressive.” The upward twitch at the corner of her mouth was strong enough that it was easy for you to spot, a playful air about her. You sniggered, moving to draw the curtains of your storefront windows open. You should probably be thankful that this was a woman who liked to make others squirm a little, rather than a customer who is actually angry. But as the sun began to warm your shop, you thought about how you’re more thankful that Marianne likes you enough to only fluster you.

Her fondness is probably the only reason she isn’t actually vexed and you pray for whatever poor bastard had decided to get on her bad side.

“Wow, eight in the morning and you’re already nagging me.” You traveled past her, swinging down the countertop door as you went through its threshold to retrieve her baked goods, fresh, packed, and ready to go since six in the morning.

“Well considering a good amount of your baking has to be done before the doors even open, I couldn’t imagine how you manage to be late.” Your eyes narrow, letting her get a good look at the sour face you have. You know where this is heading.

“Just had to collect some extra ingredients before the day began.” Her answer was quick and immediate.

“You mean for the tea that no one buys?” Her words made you wince. Marianne was nothing but a kind woman. A tad bit self-asserting sure, but patient and understanding nonetheless. The model idea of a fairytale heroine, really. But along with her mostly pleasant presence came her strong-willed, honest personality.

Her very, very honest personality.

“Don’t tell me you disagree.” She must’ve seen the face you were pulling, you didn’t mean to let that one slip. Her tone was anything but mocking, cruelty simply not in her nature. But she definitely refused to let you have any illusions about the success of your little...side projects.

“I-...no. You’re right.” Admitting it wasn’t enjoyable, that’s for sure, but for all of her honesty, you had to present your own. The tarts are set on the counter, your fingers moving to trail over your old metal register. You’ve never spoken a word to her about how you give her a regular’s discount, but you’re also almost certain she’s intelligent enough to have it figured out by now. “Just sucks to hear.”

“If you don’t sell any why do you put the effort into it?” The comment wasn’t said unkindly. It was short and straight to the point like what you would expect from her, but it’s quite a wonder to you how no one understands you do it because you like to. “You have to be running out of wherever you think those titles are…”

“They’re p-”

“They are certainly not puns sweetheart.” Ouch, she is really coming after you this morning.  
Rolling your eyes, you exchange coins, trying not to point out that she is actually younger than you and absolutely not in a position to call you sweetheart. You decide to change the subject.

“Oh well, Aba seems to like my puns at least.” She doesn’t but the mention of your young fifteen-year-old employee gives Marianne an immediate reaction, her face turning into something between endearment and exasperation. 

Along with Marianne’s magnetic personality comes a soft, feminine face, wide blue eyes, and luscious blond curls. If her mannerisms and charm didn’t pull people in, her beauty definitely did. And the teenage Aba was no exception, practically star struck from the moment she saw the woman.

“You’ll never let me live this down, huh.” A grin spread on your face, smug and triumphant. It wasn’t every day you were able to have the advantage when it came to her. Leaning your elbows on the counter you met her gaze challengingly.

“Absolutely not.” Her eyes squinted and her lips pursed into a dour expression, keeping eye contact as she scooped up her freshly baked goods. You’re reveling in the victory while you can. 

“She doesn’t have any more gifts for me right?” The woman questioned, tone apprehensive. You couldn’t help the huff of laughter that came from your nose. Aba was...for lack of a gentler term, obvious about her infatuation with Marianne. Flowers, handmade bracelets, and ornamental hair pieces were a few of the many things she gave to the older woman. It wasn’t a surprise anymore when Marianne’s baked treats came with a little something extra on the side.

“None today actually…” The woman was quick to retort.

“That makes me suspicious.”

“Suspicious? Why?” If you were, to be honest, out of everyone in this world to have the very young and strong affections of Aba, you were quite glad it was Marianne. It gave you comfort that it wasn’t in her to preen into the attention or use the girl just for an ego boost. Marianne was always soft with Aba but unwilling to give her a reason to believe there was more than the friendly relationship they had.

“It’s been quite a few weeks. It makes me feel like she’s planning something big.” Her voice tapered into a whisper like she was sharing a secret conspiracy and another bout of giggles came from you. You grabbed the rag under the counter to wipe up the lingering crumbs left from Marianne’s Egg Tarts.

“I’d like to tell you not to worry but...” You caught her eye when you looked back up to her, grin widening as you watched her gaze turn a little more exhausted. She lifted her treats, settling them into the crook of her elbow. 

“Y’know, I’ll remember how you’re teasing me right now the next time you’re late.” Her voice dipped, slightly threatening. You’ve known her for too long not to catch the way her features seem to be fighting a smile but you file her playful promise in your memory anyway. Better be on guard next time she visits or she’ll pull a fast one on you. She starts backing up, making her way towards the entrance, adding, “I’ll have to ask if I can talk to the manager.”

You could do nothing but guffaw at her, doubling over in your efforts to collect yourself. She left with a smirk and a wave, her fingers wiggling tauntingly at you.

Marianne is one of many regular customers you have and you’d be lying if you said she wasn’t one of your favorites. The back and forth was always easy with her, (even if they were always a challenge) making your spirits glow in the morning because of it. 

You have a second to collect yourself, unable to keep the grin off your face as you adjusted the grip on the rag to finish wiping the counter down, eye trailing along the grain of the wood for any flecks of pastry that might’ve gotten wedged in. This was a place of business and taking its cleanliness seriously was something you didn’t take lightly. 

After a thorough wipe down a deep breath and a scan of the quiet storefront was all you needed to regain your focus. There are still scones and bread to bake, some muffins to top off with crumbles, and the lemon cookies you need to garnish. There is about an hour and a half before the shop really starts to pick up so you start to get moving. You also notice while surveying the area that Yorick ‘forgot’ to sweep last night.

Again.

A small huff leaves you but it was hard to get worked up about it. Not only did Marianne's visit manage to keep your mood up but the weather was beautiful out. After a moment of deliberation, you decide to simply scold him later and move on, making sure to add sweeping to the list of things to do earlier in the day.

Your tasks are quick to complete, the dough already prepared and the toppings ready to sprinkle. About fifteen minutes in and you were sliding the muffins into the display window, the cookies coming in after them. At this rate you’ll get to pick up that broom in no time, giving yourself time to think of a clever pun for the tea of the day to write on the chalkboard menu.

Plucking up the broom from its designated spot, you head to the front of the shop to begin, starting with the front of the door. The focus on your task takes little to no effort, the job an old dance for you at this point. Every corner and spot that tends to collect the fallen dirt from the soles of customers feet a place you could find in your sleep. 

It was almost a peaceful trance for you, that is until you notice multiple shadows flickering past you, cast by the morning sun. The volume of chatter and shuffling growing.

A large group of men and women are wandering the streets, the crowd noticeably thicker than average, most wearing instantly recognizable tan matching uniform jackets. The white and blue wings of the Scouts embroidered proudly onto the leather on their backs.

It was about a week and a half ago when they came back from their latest expedition and it was easy to assume today must be a free day to get their minds off of it. Even with the new Commander (you’re not actually sure of his name, all you remember is his tall intimidating stature and stark blond hair) improving the excursions and lessening the death toll, many people still died and often. It was nice that they get a little time off of whatever tasks they do daily for a little leisure time.

A frown forms on your features when you think about the last expedition. You were never one to really watch as the troops returned and neither did you put a lot of effort into keeping up with who was who in the ranks. But you’d be nothing but a fool if you didn’t pay attention at all. It wasn’t hard to notice the number of empty looks and carts littered with the dead. The ones who returned were always a great deal less than when they left.

If you look closer into the faces passing by you can see the exhaustion settling under the lines of their eyes. Some had strained smiles while chatting with vendors and others looked straight up grim. Making sure you took a moment to make sure your window sign that states ‘Military Personnel Discount’ is up and in plain view, you did your best not to gawk, continuing your task. 

Anyone can say what they will about the scouts, but giving them a few coins off of a sugary treat is the least you could offer after the things they’ve had to deal with. Just thinking about a titan gives you the creeps, a small sharp feeling crawling up your spine. (Along with that, letting the Military Police have a friendly discount does wonders to sweeten them up to you and keeps them off your back, so win/win for everybody, right?)

You tried to get back into the cleaning, avoiding spectating the misery of the army, an easy job, but that shiver up your back never settled. Scrunching your face in thought you couldn’t understand why it lingered. Titans always scared the shit out of you but beyond the general thought of them, there was no reason for the sense of imminent danger to stay.

A glance up through your storefront window was all you needed to catch sight of your lasting dread. Like a sixth sense, it was like your body was warning you before you fully even knew he was there. His recognizable silhouette was poised across the road, no doubt staring back. Amongst the crowd of military men and women, he blended in like he was meant to be there. Next to trained and lethal warriors, he was a tiger among lions, different but the same. Threat undoubtable.

It spooked you, nerves shaky and frayed. You averted your eyes, instinctively looking down and finishing up sweeping the front of the store.

As you retreated deeper into the building, you found comfort in the fact that he couldn’t see you the farther you went and that it was two weeks earlier than scheduled. It was too early for him to give you a visit. Not today. At least not today.

\---

It’s about one-thirty in the afternoon when you get a chance to breathe. Soon after sweeping, your shop had almost nonstop waves of customers, most of them the Scouts, who were trying to pass the time. You had to prepare another batch of muffins ahead of schedule to keep up. You couldn’t mind though. Aside from the obvious point of getting business the batch of people who came in were patient and kind, calmly waiting in line for whatever buttery biscuit or fruity tart they desired. 

It was a small gesture, but a gesture you appreciate non the less whenever the shop got crazy. And you thanked them along with the other polite customers that came in with them by sneaking them a little extra bit of syrup or crushed almonds.

But as much as you enjoy the serving experience, you take the moment of peace with gratitude, using the time to stretch your back, listening to the pops, and recount inventory to see what you’d have to bake next. 

Tobo should be coming in for his afternoon shift in about an hour and the kid was always so enthusiastic to get to work, you wanted to make sure he had everything ready and organized for him to take over. Although, he’s never made the egg tarts that you usually take care of in the morning...maybe you should let him make the next batch. 

With this thought running through your head and your hands busy wiping down the last of the few utensils you recently used, a jingle from the front door caught your attention. You called out your usual greeting, fingers still scrubbing at the silver.

“Hello! Welcome to For Goodness Cakes! What can I get for you today!” A few beats of silence follow and for a moment you weren’t sure if you misheard the door. Your kitchen is a wide-open space, only the very back where you stock inventory was hidden away from the counter and sitting area. So it’s not often you miss what’s going on. 

It causes you to turn, eyes immediately zoning in on a single man loitering in front of the door. Another few moments of silence pass and you begin to feel a little uneasy. The only thing you could think of to do was repeat yourself, stepping closer to the counter. 

“Hello, is there anything I can help you with?” You couldn’t help the confusion from seeping into your voice. You take the man in as you shorten the distance between you, his eyes scanning the room. His emotionless facial expression and demeanor giving off an almost intimidating aura.

“Do you serve tea?” The low timbre of his voice throws you off a bit, too lost in figuring out what was so off about this guy that it took a second too long to answer. You quickly clear your throat and lean the palms of your hands onto the wood near your register.

“I do! We have your regular selections of Black, a Green, and a few fruit teas, along with today's special.” One of his dark, thin eyebrows quirks up at that. Boy, does this man have a resting bitch face or what? You lift your hand, gesturing towards the chalkboard you filled in this morning. Its contents describe the Blueberry Black tea you have for the day. Having a tea special isn't really a common thing to do, so the look on his face is something you see often.

He flickers his eyes to the board, another handful of moments passing by in silence. It feels...weird. This guy is weird. It’s taking everything in you to keep a pleasantly neutral expression on, the quiet starting to feel like torture. More seconds tick by and you start thinking of something else to say to dispel the tension. Luckily he decides then to speak up.

“What’s in the special?” He looks you dead in the eyes as he says it, voice smooth and level. another beat passes, and for the sake of customer service, you vote against telling him the description was written right on the board. 

“It’s a black blend. With blueberry and mint.” You watch as his face begins to look slightly impressed? Surprised? The change so minuscule that you wouldn’t even notice if you weren’t looking for it, trying to figure him out.

“I’d like a cup of that. Please.” It was common for customers to ask about the special, curiosity tempting them to do so, but the fact that he actually ordered a cup took a bit of time for the wheels in your head to comprehend. You knew you were standing there a little too long, looking dull and dumb, so you do your best to throw him a quick ‘Right away, sir!’ and rushed to brew it. Not ONCE in the two years of working here did anyone choose to try your experimental tea blends. Not once. If your shock wears off anytime soon, you’d be sure you’d feel nothing but the bubble of giddy excitement.

You place another cup next to his, intending to make one for yourself. You usually end up drinking your mystery blends on your own near the end of your day, but who knows when the next time you can share it with someone will pop up? Your gaze flickers towards him for a moment, noticing that he approached the counter, watching you work. Considering the kitchen was an open concept, in plain view for everyone, it wasn’t too weird, but as he met your eyes, expression flat and unyielding, it made you think he was watching for more than just amusing himself.

You gave him a small polite smile, trying not to think about how his presence turned the air around him...intense. Even without speaking, he was demanding your attention. It sure was distracting. Turning back to the drinks, the water set to boil, and the herbs and dried fruit ready to steep, you try to start a conversation with your new customer. Fill the lull?

“So...What brings you to the shop today?” It’s not unlikely for people from out of town to visit, but the subject is a conversation starter, that's for sure. “I haven’t seen you before, are you new to the area?”

When you glance back at him you pick up on the fact that he hadn’t stopped watching you make his drink. Eyes focused and sharp...like he was a young maiden in a tavern. Did he think you were going to poison him or something?

More moments of silence and he looks like he’s thinking. But you wait patiently, none of it bothering you.

“You could say that.” You don’t really know what he means by that...it’s a little cryptic but it’s probably just none of your business. “Just wanted to get a hot cup of tea.” You didn’t intend to smile at that but you couldn't help but feel a little elated at the fact that this man unwittingly just made your day with his whims.

“Well you’ve come to the right place then! We even have a new special tea each day” The tone you gave was casual and friendly but you probably didn’t have to give him the hard sell about you making the tea every day. The man already ordered it, maybe your excitement was pushing it too far?

“Each day you say?” You start steeping the tea, watching the purplish color spread, zeroed into the fact that while his tone was...well the same as it has sounded since he’d shown up, neutral and borderline apathetic, the words he used made him sound at least a little interested.

“Yep! Made by yours truly.” You fully turn to him as you wait for the tea, letting yourself take pride that you put so much effort into your beverages.

“Oh?” His thin lips pursed, only so slightly, identifying the emotion he was conveying a little lost on you. The man is a mystery. “I assume you drink tea often?”

“Only on days of the week.” You internally cringe a little at yourself, the presence of this guy throwing you off. The man hummed in response.

“I’ll trust that it won't taste like shit then.” Your fingers flew to your mouth, trying to cover up the graceless bark of laughter that you couldn’t suppress, the comment catching you off guard. He still boldly held your gaze, practically staring you down. A beat...two, three pass before you cleared your throat, embarrassed at your outburst.

You give your attention to the tea again, removing the steeping herbs and having a passing thought that you just totally misjudged this person from the get-go. He was alright...just different. You think?

“Oh, what an honor that you’d put your faith in me.” You kept your voice light, playful. Like it usually is with customers you get to know a little. Something tells you that you could probably relax a little, the uniqueness of this man most likely is nothing more than just that. 

“Is it really an honor that I’d expect you not to make it taste like garbage water?” Another huff of laughter escapes you. It sounded like he was grilling you, his straightforwardness continuing to surprise you. You feel like you should be offended? Maybe? His vocabulary is just...a little course.

“Most people don’t even give it a try, so yes. The highest honor.” You hand him his cup, his hands taking it from yours gentler than you’d think by how they look. Rough and calloused, clean but covered in some scrapes and bruises. A stark contrast to his otherwise sharp and crisp grooming. For a fleeting moment, you wonder what he does for a living to make his hands like that. Even carpenters never look that roughed up. You were so curious about his hands that you almost missed that he gripped the mug by the lip of the opening. If he breaks it...

When you look up his eyes are still locked on yours. Almost like he caught you focusing on his appendages and was analyzing you in return. Were you imagining that? It’s not impossible that you’d be thinking too much about it. You try and change the subject, deciding that he’s amused you enough for you to give him a little something extra.

“I’ll tell you what, Mister....” You remember he never actually gave you his name, giving pause for him to enlighten you. He did not. “Since you’re new into town I’d like to give you a welcoming gift on the house.” You gesture towards the display window. “Pick any one you want.”

It takes him no time to reply.

“A slice of raisin bread, please.”

“Warm and buttered?”

“No, moldy with a side of ass.” It again took another second to catch up to you that he was using sarcasm. Smiling, you commit to the thought that you’ll have to get used to it.

“Warm and buttered, coming right up!”

It was ingrained in your muscle memory, the process of gathering the treat and placing it to warm on your iron oven shelf swift and easy with your years of practice. You take the time to sneak a sip of your tea as the bread cooks, gesturing to the many seats placed around your shop.

“Please, sit down if you’d like. The raisin bread will only take a moment and I will bring it out to you. You flash him another polite smile, one he returned with...a stare. The same stare he’s been holding pretty much since he’s entered your establishment. There are another few moments of just staring between you two, and you’re not able to keep another subtle look of confusion from placing itself on your face. He clears it all up immediately.

“I’d like to stand until the bread is done.” Uh, okay. Sure. He said it like it was non-negotiable, watching you cater to his bread the same way he watched you make his tea...so you assume it has something to do with that? Regardless, he can watch if he’d like, it was...just not something you were accustomed to. You plaster on your customer service face once more.

“Whatever you like.” The bread was done warming anyway, it shouldn't be in there too much longer unless he requested toast. Taking your metal spatula, you scoop up the slice, placing it on the cloth napkin you’ve prepared for it. It only took another few seconds to spread a light coating of butter and you watched the layer melt into the grains. Smiling a little at your handy work. (Even if this task really wasn’t that hard, you gotta pride yourself on something right?)

When you turn to the counter, baked goods in hand you see him waiting in the same spot he was, practically a statue. Even as you’ve finished setting up the raisin bread, he still kept a keen eye on you, watching, like he expected you to lick it when he wasn’t looking.

“Here you are,” You place the bread in his hands as they rise up to take it and try not to stare at his marked fingers. He mutters a soft, low ‘thank you’ before grabbing his tea and sitting at a table tucked in the corner where the counter meets the wall. It’s a very small table, one usually for employees on their break, only two chairs around it and just enough space for him to place his still cooling tea and a newspaper that he...seemed to pull out of nowhere?

You blink, trying not to think too hard on how the fuck he brought that in without you noticing. But as you watch him you also pick up on the fact that he’s facing the entry. Usually, patrons not only choose to sit at the tables by the windows, either to people watch or because the tables are a more accommodating size, but no one ever places their back to the register...especially while they're practically placed against the counter.

A strange choice for a strange man, you think. Looking into the neatly shaved hair on the back of his head.

“You should know it is rude to stare.” You jumped, startled that he was fully aware of what you were doing while not even looking in your direction. Uh, fuck, you can’t tell him you were thinking about how weird he was. What are you going to say to him?

“Oh, um...I’m sorry, you’re just the first person to order my special-tea.” Fuck, no! Don’t tell him that, that’s admitting to a customer they ordered an unpopular item. Now he’s expecting it to taste shitty. The man turns just enough for you to catch his side profile, his eyes low, not even looking at you.

“You’ve been open for a while, yes?” The gravel in his voice seemed lazy like he could barely be bothered to respond but in this moment you could see how others could interpret the drawl into a threat. ...If you didn’t know any better that might’ve been how you’d take it.

“Ah, yes. Two years about.” You picked up the conversation well now, leaving your stuttering and uncertain tone behind. Though with where this is going, you feel like it’s not good.

“Hmm…” He hums as he turns back to his drink, slow and leisurely as he brings the lip of the porcelain to his mouth, sipping. You couldn’t help the sharp intake of breath, not only startled he’d take a sip directly after you admitted to no one ever wanting it, but also to prepare yourself for what might be a personal failure. (...Wait, why is he still holding his drink like that.) You might like your teas but that doesn’t mean this guy will.

The quiet of the room starts to make you nervous. Listening to the gentle smack of his lips and watching him gently place the cup back onto the wood of the table. 

“It’s a shame I’m the first. This shit is good.”

The air felt still to you as he said it, the comment the complete opposite from what you expected. You couldn’t help but gaze at him with that dumb look on your face, watching as he lifted the warm slice of raisin bread, biting and chewing, casually, like he didn’t just compliment the one thing no one has ever even had a chance to. The cheek fat on your face came into your line of vision, you began to smile so hard. You were a doofus to get so happy over something so minuscule, but you almost felt indebted to this man. You think you’re just going to give him a free baked good every time he sets foot in your door. Maybe you can ask him what his favorite flavors are? You can reinvent some buttery, flakey treat in his honor! You know he likes raisins so maybe you’ll add those too...it’ll be a new special you’ll sell and-

“Well you're a creepy woman, aren’t you?” Your visions faded, along with your smile when you realize you’ve been staring at the back of his head with a frightening grin. He’s chewing another bite of his bread and regarding you with a...bored expression? Ugh, you literally can not tell with this man.

“Takes one to know one.” The comment slips past your lips before you could stop it. Your mouth scrunching in the wake of you mouthing off to a customer. You weren’t even very upset by his comment, though the irony of him calling you weird was not lost on you.

You both stare at each other. There has been a lot of staring today and you have to admit you’re not exactly a fan. You fear that you’ve upset him and think of a way to amend the situation before it gets worse. But as soon as you open your mouth to offer him another treat, he speaks up himself in that deep, rolling voice of his.

“Hmm, fair enough.” He turns back to his tea, taking another sample. You tried not to watch him any longer, learning your lesson and returning to your own beverage. His behavior has certainly been...different from others that you're used to, but you think dwelling on it would do nothing but confuse you further. He’s been polite and he’s complimented your tea, so you’d say this interaction was positive regardless of any other details.

You gulp down a bit of the liquid, deciding to grab a rag and do your best to keep your hands busy. Whipping down the places that a few crumbs have scattered onto would probably help distract you from embarrassing yourself any further.

Minutes pass, and the man has quietly sat in his spot, reading his newspaper. A few customers have come in and out, you retrieve their orders promptly, the day returning to its normal state. It’s back to what you’re used to, the dark-haired man now just another small addition to the everyday events that make up your life. You appreciate the pressure you felt melting away, and your confidence as a customer service worker restores itself. You just needed a moment to settle, get used to the man.

It was when you were setting up the ingredients for the croissants that you heard the sound of your front door opening, and a voice you are very familiar with waltzes it’s way in.

“Why good day, miss! Funny to be running into a lass like yourself here.” His voice was light and held mirth, the candace of his sentences like dancing. You didn’t even have to look back.

“Shut up Tobo, and get to work.” You giggled at him, as he made his way past the counter door to drop his hat off into his little employee cubby. 

“Right away young lady!” You huff another bit of laughter at his cheery disposition. That and the fact that the eighteen-year-old keeps calling you young. “Do you need me to get any extra flour?”

Your eyes scan below the counter where you keep the ingredient. You have two bags in line to use but decide he should get some more anyway. He was one of the only employees tall enough to grab them from the cellar shelves, might as well.

“Yes please,” You sing at him, and he bounds off right away. You get back to your croissants, collecting some powder to spread on a select few, the motions of your every day almost lulling you into peace. Your movements practiced and precise. It takes Tobo to come back and gasp like he’s seen a ghost for you to remember your interesting and quiet new customer.

Both you and the man turn to him in alarm, (or at least you think it’s alarm? God damn it you really can’t figure out with that flat expression of his) Tobo blatantly staring at him in awe.

“You’re...drinking her tea…” Tobo’s voice came out almost a whisper, his bewilderment twisting your face into a frown.

“Don’t go around saying it like that! He’s going to think I cursed it or something!” Your raised voice pulled a laugh from the young man, a bright and playful sound.

“I’m just saying! No one ever drinks it!” His grin was wide and charming. It's something he’s learned to weaponize when it comes to getting old ladies to get an extra box of cookies. But you were immune to it, aware of his underhanded ways! You grab a rag near you and continuously smack his arm with it to drive your point home. He laughs harder.

“It’s because you’re all cowards! It’s not like I use any weird herbs or fruits! It’s good to experiment!” You start smacking him a little harder and it causes him to skip away from you, giggles still in his throat. “Am I not paying you? Shouldn’t you be doing something!”

He then grabs the rag, his chuckles simmering down.

“Alright, alright.” He turned to the customer, who was silently observing your shenanigans this whole time. “Thank you sir, if you hadn’t ordered some of her tea I’d still be hearing about how no one has taste around these parts for two more years.” Oh wow, did your cheeks burn from his comment, Tobo using his long legs to quickly escape to the back room. Left with the strange man, you clear your throat.

“Ah...don’t mind him. He’s just happy because the tea is a bit of a big deal for me.” When you made eye contact with the man, you could’ve sworn the corners of his mouth were turned up, so slight.

The door then opened to reveal a small family, your attention being pulled away. It was business as usual, taking the order, offering a sugared date to the children and preparing their treats. It was only after you waved them off that you noticed the strange man was gone, the teacup delicately placed on the counter near his seat.

An hour or two later the bakery picked up, customers coming in to buy loaves of fresh bread for their families or a dessert delicacy after a long day at their jobs. The rush was always exhausting but eventful in the way where time slips by, taking turns with Tobo to cash and bake and clean. You practically blinked, the sky turning dark and the last lingering customers leaving their dishes at their tables or with an arm full of bagged goods. 

Locking the storefront door, you frowned. The day got so hectic you weren’t able to stop by Aunt June’s house to see the kids for their lesson like you planned. You knew they understood but it’s been a few days and you’re starting to miss them.

Tobo was untying his apron to hang when you turned to him. His eyes had a glint that he knew what you were pouting about.

“Why does it always feel like you’re about to make fun of me.” You made your way behind the counter, counting the cash that was in the register. Watching him out of the corner of your eye, you saw his tall form reaching to the higher shelves, organizing all of the ingredients and utensils you’ve repackaged and cleaned within the last hour of closing.

“Hmm, it’s probably because I am.” You didn’t have to see his face to catch a glimpse of his smirk. Sighing, you decided to just take the bait.

“Alright, out with it. Say what you’re going to say.” Your fingers flicked through the coins in a practiced dance, making the task quick and painless.

“You’re upset you didn't toot some little horn with the kids aren’t ya.”

Your arm lifted, swatting at him, mostly just for show, but at that moment you make up your mind about making sure you see the children tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> -Marianne: 22 A very pretty lady that visits your shop. She’s been nothing but kind to you but you can tell she’s a woman who’s in charge and she’s not afraid of confrontation. Visits your bakery about once a week. Aba is p much smitten with her.
> 
> -Tobo: 18 Tobo is his nickname and he refuses to tell most his real name saying he hates it. (It’s Gonzo) Very smiley and loves the kids, likes to cause some light-hearted trouble though. Wants to work in your shop forever.
> 
> Tell me what you think so far and what you think will happen! I'm excited to see what yall expect.


End file.
